Queen of Barrakesch Page 13

  At her pleased expression, he gleaned that was absolutely the right answer and set out to wrap up as much as he could by day’s end.

  “Where are we going?” Imani asked.

  She and Wasim rode in the back of the limo, and all she knew was that they were going to the beach for a picnic. Nothing else about the day’s activities had been shared with her, and though she knew much of Barrakesch, she wasn’t familiar with the road they were on.

  “Have I ever told you about Muriah Beach?” Wasim looked relaxed in his typical uniform of a white shirt and black slacks. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and the shirtsleeves rolled up at the arms gave a tantalizing peek at wiry forearms sprinkled with fine hairs.

  “No,” Imani replied, but the name was vaguely familiar.

  “It’s a private beach accessible only to the royal family. We’re going to spend the day there. There is a small house there we can use, but we’ll be entirely alone—well, except for our security, the chef, his assistants, and our help. I sent the chef and the others ahead yesterday to prepare the place for us.”

  A small thrill of pleasure sparked inside of Imani. They were going to spend the whole day together. It shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.

  When they arrived at their destination, the royal couple entered the so-called small house, which was actually a sprawling beach house with ten bedrooms, eleven baths, and an indoor pool.

  In the great room, decorated in patterned chairs that seemed comfortable and cozy, Imani looked out at the water. Outside on the balcony, contemporary wicker chairs with teal cushions were grouped together around tables with unlit votive candles on top. Beyond that, she saw a stone pathway that led down a gentle incline, shadowed by shrubs and palm trees to the clear blue of the Gulf lapping at the shore.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed as she took in the scenic view.

  “I thought you would like it,” Wasim said, right behind her.

  She clasped her hands and turned to face him. “What are we going to do first?”

  “How about horseback riding to start?”

  A playful smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled much recently, and the transformation in his face reminded her of the fun they used to have, before the bitterness that developed between them.

  “Are you talking about a race?” Imani asked.

  “You’re not ready for a race,” Wasim said dismissively.

  “Oh, really?” She pretended to be affronted. “Maybe you’re not ready to lose.”

  With his hands behind his back, he took two steps closer and her skin heated at his nearness. Gazing up at him, she became lost for a moment in his copper-brown eyes. Were all women this enamored with their spouses? He never failed to arouse her passions and make her heart beat with much too much speed beneath her breast.

  “May the best horseman win,” Wasim said in his velvety voice.

  “You mean, may the best horsewoman.”

  “When will you learn?” He laughed softly and shook his head, which only made Imani more determined to beat him and knock the cocky smirk off his face.

  They changed into more comfortable clothes while the help prepared their horses for the ride. Instead of saddles, they both chose colorful padded seats that draped over the horses’ ribs. Imani climbed onto a brown and white stallion, while Wasim lifted onto a black mare.

  They started out at a slow pace along the water’s edge. The horses stepped into the rolling waves, the white crests lapping at their legs as they trotted through the water. Wasim pointed out dolphins leaping in the distance, only one of the many marine animals that filled Barrakesch’s deep waters. There were hundreds of varieties of fish and sharks much further out.

  When Imani and Wasim reached the end of the beach, they both turned around to head back the way they’d come, and when their eyes met, a silent challenge was issued. Imani took off on the stallion and Wasim shot after her right away.

  The horses’ hooves sank into the wet sand along the water’s edge, and Imani crouched over the powerful beast and urged him to go faster, but she was no match for Wasim and his mare. He passed by and then glanced back at her. The breeze coming off the Gulf whipped his black hair into frenzied disarray, his white clothing billowed around his arms and legs, while laughing eyes softened his features. For a moment, she didn’t care if she won or lost. She simply wanted to look at him and bask in the positive energy pouring out of him.

  Still, she had a race to win, but Wasim showed her no mercy. He led the way to the original spot and handed her a big loss.

  He jumped lightly to the ground onto his bare feet, and Imani, laughing and panting, looked down at him. “You have an unfair advantage.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Because you ride all the time,” she said.

  With his hands at her waist, he helped her down, and she landed between him and the horse. Wasim brushed her hair back from her face that the wind had mercilessly whipped about, and her skin tingled where he touched.

  Bending his head to her ear, he said, “Yet you challenged me. You should learn to pick your battles.”

  Her heart raced at his closeness and the whisper of his breath against her earlobe. “And you should learn to show mercy.”

  “Did you want me to let you win?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I’m suggesting you could have shown a little mercy, that’s all.”

  “I’ll show you mercy when we go for a swim. I promise not to drown you.”

  “As if you could. I was practically born in the ocean.”

  “And you were also the better horsewoman. We’ll see soon enough what kind of swimming skills you have, won’t we?”

  “Yes, we will.” Imani walked ahead of him and then glanced over her shoulder. Feeling playful, she said, “Race you!” Then she took off running.

  “Hey!” Wasim scrambled up the incline after her.

  The chef and his helpers had a spread of fruit and citrus-flavored water waiting for them. They indulged in the refreshments and then gathered their belongings to enjoy the rest of their time on the beach.

  Helpers set up umbrellas and chairs and a table on the sand, and when Imani got ready to disrobe, Wasim dismissed the male bodyguards so they were alone.

  She removed the opaque cover she’d worn down to the beach and unveiled an electric blue halter top bikini. She even put a little extra wiggle in her body as she removed her clothes, knowing Wasim’s eyes were on her. When she turned to him with the sunblock in her hands, his eyes were clouded with lust.

  “Could you do my back, please?” she asked.

  He took the bottle without a word, and she let him rub the cream into her shoulders and back. Then he lowered to his haunches and got her legs, too. The touch of his hand should have been nonsexual, but she couldn’t help getting a little turned on. By the time he finished massaging the lotion into her inner thighs and the underside of her ass—which received much more attention than was necessary—her nipples had beaded against the bikini top and she was a little breathless.

  He finished the job by covering her arms, chest, and belly, his warm hand sliding over her heated skin with a slow, silky touch. When he finally let her go she felt deprived and wished he’d continue touching her.

  She returned the favor by rubbing the lotion over his muscular back and down along his hard thighs and calves—taking her time to appreciate the beauty of sinew and muscle covered in golden skin. She was just as thorough as he was and rubbed the lotion into his chest and abs with a lazy, circular motion that caused him to draw the occasional sharp breath. When she finished the task, Wasim tossed the bottle aside, dragged her close by the back of her neck, and plundered her mouth in a searing kiss.

  When he released her, his shallow breaths feathered across her parted lips. “Ready to go into the water?” he asked.

  While the look in his eyes said he wanted to do anything but go into the water, she appreciated that he was sticking to thei
r planned schedule.

  “I would love to.”

  Wasim took her hand and they walked to the water. They splashed around, jumped into the waves, and floated on their backs as they let the sun’s rays toast their skin into a darker hue. Their playfulness included Imani jumping on his back or Wasim tossing her into the waves.

  Worry-free, Imani lost track of how much time they spent out there. Every time they grew tired, they went back to the shore, relaxed on the chairs, and rehydrated. Then they went back into the water for more swimming, splashing, and playing.

  Her grumbling stomach caused Imani to say, “I’m ready to eat now.”

  “I am, too, actually,” Wasim admitted.

  They went back to the shore where they both covered up and Wasim called for their lunch.

  Two female servants delivered a picnic basket filled with a choice of sandwiches, more fresh fruit, figs with creamy goat cheese, and more of the refreshing citrus water.

  After they ate, their full bellies kept them relaxing on the chairs. Wasim reclined in his lounger and looked at her.

  “What?” Imani said.

  “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Come. Here.”

  She wanted to be stubborn. To refuse him, but her feet moved of their own volition and took her across the small divide. She rested her knee on the edge of his chair, and he took her hand with the platinum and diamond wedding band.

  “When I tell you to do something, you should do it.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You should be. My word is law. I am the ultimate authority in Barrakesch.”

  “And you do want an obedient wife. How sad for you that’s not what you ended up with.”

  “Are you sure, habibti?”

  She tried to yank away her hand, but he tightened his hold and chuckling, pulled her down on top of him. As Imani relaxed and closed her eyes, Wasim smoothed a hand under the coverup and cupped her bottom. He squeezed her ass several times and she moaned, settling more comfortably on top of him before he patted her left cheek and left his hand there.

  That was the last thing she remembered—his hand resting possessively on her bottom as she lay on top of him—before she dozed off.

  She woke up when Wasim shook her awake. Groggily, she opened her eyes and saw the sun had already set.

  “It’s time to go back to the house,” he said quietly.

  “Okay,” Imani said, glancing up at the darkening sky.

  He gave her a tender kiss, holding his mouth against hers for long time before he finally released her.

  They slowly made their way back to the house, with her tucked into his side and an arm around his waist. After spending the day together playing, laughing, and even sleeping, being this close to him felt extremely natural.

  While the helpers went down to the beach to gather up the items they’d left, she and Wasim took showers in separate bathrooms and changed clothes before the last part of the day commenced.

  22

  Their meal consisted of grilled trout, sautéed vegetables, and bissap, a popular Zamibian drink made from dried hibiscus flowers. They ate out on the balcony with only a few lights on, and votive candles flickering on the table. The sound of the Arabian Sea rolling forward across the sands over and over again was their background music.

  As the meal came to an end, Imani dabbed her lips with the white napkin. “That was absolutely delicious.”

  “Yes, it was,” Wasim agreed.

  His eyes lingered on her face and made her feel a little shy. Her cheeks warmed and she cast her eyes down at her lap.

  “We haven’t laughed and talked to each other like this in a while,” he said quietly.

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “I miss our friendship.”

  “I miss it, too,” Imani admitted.

  The chef, a tall heavy-set man with a thick mustache and beard, came out with one of the helpers behind him. “Will there be anything else, Your Excellency, Your Royal Highness? Dessert?”

  Wasim looked at Imani, deferring to her, but she shook her head.

  “Coffee, tea?” the chef asked, looking from one to the other.

  Imani shook her head again.

  “Nothing for me. Everything was delicious,” Wasim said. He waved a hand at the table and indicated they should clear away the dishes.

  They did just that and disappeared inside.

  They were alone for several minutes before Wasim asked, “Do you want to walk away from this marriage?”

  She lowered her gaze. Walking away was the last thing on her mind, especially after today. Today gave her hope that they could have a normal relationship. Like him, she’d missed their camaraderie.

  Wasim scraped back his chair and extended a hand to her. She took it and they walked to the grouping of wicker chairs with teal cushions. Wasim sat down first so that he was facing the sea and pulled her down against him.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “I’m not very good at talking, but I can listen if there’s anything you want to say.”

  Wrapped in his arms and not having to look at him, Imani felt comfortable enough to open up.

  “I don’t want to walk away from our marriage.” She heard him breathe what could only be described as a sigh of relief. His hand stroked comfortingly over her hair. “But since we’ve been married, I feel like I’m little more than a body for you.”

  “I can see how you would think that. I suppose it’s because ever since we kissed in Estoria, I’ve been consumed with thoughts of you. I’ve been consumed with thoughts of you ever since you stepped off the plane to attend graduate school in Barrakesch and Kofi told me to keep an eye on you. I should be angry at him for doing that because his request forced me to keep my distance. But Estoria changed everything, and there have been times when I wished I could cut off my hands so I wouldn’t feel the need to reach for you.”

  Imani twisted so that she could see his face. “Wasim…” She touched a finger to his cheek.

  He took her hand and kissed her palm.

  Imani sighed. “I’ve been angry at you, and I want to explain. Obviously, I wasn’t happy about the way we got married, and then the only use you seemed to have for me was sex. We never talk about issues anymore or problems that we could solve together. You don’t share your work with me, and I don’t feel like I can share mine with you. Before I felt like we were equals, but now…” She shook her head as words failed her.

  “You’ve always been so capable, I didn’t think you needed me to say or do anything to encourage you. You’ve always impressed me, Imani. Surely you know that.”

  “I suppose.” She shrugged to downplay her need for his respect. “I know it’s unfair, but I worry that you’ll treat me the way my father has all my life.”

  “Do you feel I’ve hindered you in any way?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “I respect you. You are an amazing woman, and I am lucky to have you ruling by my side. Both of our countries are lucky to have you and your brilliant mind and caring heart.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But,” Wasim added, holding her attention with direct eye contact, “There is one thing you must understand. While I respect you and would never try to stifle you because I want you to thrive, you are my wife, and it’s my responsibility to take care of you. I take my responsibilities very seriously. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes. I suppose being married to a king means I’ll want for nothing?”

  “Not one single thing.” He pulled her on top of him so that she straddled his thighs. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing I can think of…for now.”

  “So…does the sex and the respect have to be mutually exclusive?”

  She laughed. “Wasim…”

  “I’m asking because I need to know how far I can push tonight.” He smoothed a hand under her abaya.

  Imani cast a glance inside the house, but the great room was empty. The servants were all
gone.

  Wasim slapped her right butt cheek.

  She flinched—not from pain, but from the delicious pleasure of the blow. “Are you asking if we’re on the sex part of the evening now that the conversation is over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, we’re on the sex part of the evening,” Imani said softly.

  With a wicked grin, Wasim stood with her in his arms, and she wound her legs around his waist. He walked with her back to the master bedroom and brought them both to a shuddering climax.

  Wasim reentered the bedroom with a bottle of water. He handed the balance to Imani and she finished it off. He set the empty bottle on the side table, and she cuddled up next to him on the bed.

  “I never got to tell you about my conversation with your sister,” she said, looping an arm across his chest.

  Wasim rested against the pillows with one arm folded behind his head. “Tell me about it.”

  She caught him up on her visit with Yasmin and what they observed with the women and girls. “The only problem is, she needs to get that money, and that’s where you come in. She needs you to get Parliament to include the additional funds in the budget so you can sign off on it.”

  “She should be convincing them to do it, not asking me to do it.”

  “But how do we convince them? Yasmin can’t get a single member to send a representative to talk to the women about how much they enjoy the program. Could you make them do it?” she asked tentatively. She really wanted the program to get funded to the levels Yasmin needed.

  Wasim chuckled softly. “I could, but that would cause resentment and other problems down the line. I’m already in Parliament’s crosshairs, and I have to pick my battles. And though I could dissolve the entire group and start from scratch—like a certain Zamibian woman pointed out—that is the drastic, nuclear option. I think the best way to convince Parliament to invest more in the program is to let the women tell them in their own words what the literacy initiative means to them.”

  “How? In a report they probably won’t read?”